


Severe Gun Fight At the Hill Of Casualties

by black_lodge



Series: Requiem For the Living [2]
Category: Hellsing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5613760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_lodge/pseuds/black_lodge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More childhood war games: winter edition. (Integra is 8.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Severe Gun Fight At the Hill Of Casualties

She clattered into the kitchen, all bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and runny nose. Her pale hair was askew beneath the fur-lined hood of her cloak, and he noticed that her stockings were laddered in one knee. Her mittens, which were dangling from her sleeves by their strings, and the front of her skirts were soaked.

"Guess what I was doing!" she crowed first thing, joing him him at the table where he was placing biscuits in orderly rows on a tea tray for Sir Hellsing. She was tall for her age but still barely came up past his waist.

"I don't know; what were you doing?" he said, smiling at her exuberance -- though he could very well guess; she'd brought the chill snow air in with her, and as they spoke she was tramping mud and wet all over the kitchen.

"Peter let some of the boys have a snowball fight!" she said, tripping around the table, brushing back her hood so that her bright hair swung free over her shoulders. "They let me play with them too, me and Roberta." Roberta was her father's giant St. Bernard, an utter nuisance as far as Walter was concerned, but Integra loved the dog like a sister. She snagged a biscuit off the plate and crammed it in her mouth.

"Ah, ah, ah," Walter scolded; "go wash your hands."

"I was wearing gloves," she protested around her mouthful. "Roberta knocked me over, see?" And she hiked her shoe up onto the wooden bench, pulling her skirt up to show him the run in her stocking.

"Do you need a bandage, Miss Integra?" said Walter, but she ignored him -- clear indication that she did not need a bandage -- and her little cold hand seized his upper arm and pulled him down until he was eye-level with her. She put her mouth and hand up to his ear and whispered loudly. "I hit Thomas Morrel right in the face with a snowball!" And then she danced away again, and he smiled.

"Can I have some of that?" said Integra in her normal chirp, pointing to the pot of tea reserved for Sir Hellsing.

"This is for your father," said Walter. "Tell you what, why don't I make you a cup of chocolate?"

She smacked her lips and plopped down on the bench. Walter had Maurice take the tray up to Arthur and then put some milk on to warm.  
"I wonder if Father would play outside with me today," Integra said, picking at her fingernail. When she started to chew on it in earnest, Walter reached around her and pulled her hand out of her mouth.

"Don't bite your nails. If you like, I can have the sleds brought out. Would you like that?"

She jumped in her seat, grinning openly. "We can race them down the hill! Will you sled with me?"

Walter laughed, and impulsively leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. She radiated heat. "Don't you think I'm a little old for that?"

"Not for sledding," Integra said firmly, and Walter laughed again, busying himself with the cocoa.


End file.
